


It’s the Name of the Game

by ceciliamayden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Brooklyn, Collaboration, F/M, I like to think I’m funny, Kirelle’s name was meant to go before Aden’s but for some reason it wouldn’t let me do that, Loyalty, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceciliamayden/pseuds/ceciliamayden
Summary: “This affection towards him was a contagious infection, and the more it spread, the more difficult it would be to return from it. And the more harm it would bring to the both of them.”Dropping out of uni to work for a secret agency has its benefits and detriments.Benefits: excitement, helping people, the salary.Detriments: lethality, developing feelings for the person you’re in charge of protecting.Kirelle’s dedication to her job results in her pushing Aden away, despite both his and her own protests. Prior to this scene, she denies his invitation to an upscale social event, only to find herself there anyway for work.





	It’s the Name of the Game

**Author's Note:**

> This work was a team effort; storyline, characters and artwork created by Halfy (@halfwaytothestart on tumblr and Instagram) and written by me (@ceciliamayden on tumblr). If the images don’t show up, we recommend downloading the work as a PDF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is a polished draft and may change as the story develops.

Kirelle sauntered through the double doors, her arm hooked in M’s as a display of friendship that, to onlookers, would hopefully make them appear as if they were a couple. Because, as much as she liked him, she would rather take any alternative to kissing him.

She hid her awe in regards to the lavish interior of the building, acting as if she attended these sorts of parties on a regular basis. Suspicion and attention were things that she’d rather avoid, thanks very much. It was one of the basic unspoken rules of her career. Blend in with the crowd, be so uninteresting that you become a shadow in the pitch black. Interact when necessary, but otherwise don’t let people remember your face.

Her gaze danced across the ceiling, attempting to focus on one aspect of the fresco paintings, but then jumping away when she noticed something else. Angels with golden wings chased music that floated in the breeze, as maidens in silk robes gossiped in flowering meadows. Random naked people dozed on clouds of silver. Typical.

“M, this place is huge...” Kirelle breathed, “Where do we examine first?”

He shrugged, calm and collected, “Uh, I don’t think we have to worry,”

“What?”

“This place is heavily guarded by fifty other officers, plus the perimeter guards—I doubt anything’s going to go wrong. Besides, we haven’t picked up any enemy signals, yet. And we may not. Don’t sweat it, kid.”

Kirelle scowled at him, “This is a _big_ event. I’m sure that if something _can_ go wrong, then it _will_ go wrong. We should sit as close to the governor as we can.”

M dropped their arms to face her, “Hey, calm down, we’ve got this under control. Just try to have a good time for once. For all that we’ve done, the purpose of this party should _really_ be to celebrate our facility.”

“We can’t—”

“I’m going to get a drink, want one?”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “No,”

“Suit yourself,”

She watched him manoeuvre his way through the crowd of overdressed aristocrats, then pulled her device out of her clutch purse. Nothing. As she was about to put it away, a red notification flashed across the screen. A target signal. Aden.

She looked up, spotting a brown-haired boy socialising with a group of men who looked like they should have the ambulance on speed dial. Even from a fair distance away she could see the dark circles under his eyes and the boredom that he was trying so desperately to disguise. She made the mistake of staring for too long, for he sensed her lingering gaze and caught her eye. She felt sick in the stomach when surprised hurt flashed across his face. She didn’t want to be reminded of what she’d had to do.

 _Focus_ , she scolded herself.

Forcing herself to look away, she saw M beckoning her over to where he sat with a group of people holding champagne flutes. She tried to ignore Aden’s stare as she made her way to M’s table and took the seat next to him, her lips forced into a fake smile.

“This is Kaylee, my girlfriend,” M introduced her to his new friends, “Kaylee, this is Alfred and Jocelyn Prowse, and this is Natalie Thyer.”

“Charmed,” Kirelle lied as she shook their hands. Natalie Thyer’s necklace was probably worth more than Kirelle’s entire apartment building, and the Prowses had probably accomplished more in their long lives than they ever expected ‘Kaylee’ would.

A crackling sound echoed throughout the ballroom, and conversations dissipated.

“Good evening, distinguished guests,” came a voice from the stage—a woman wearing a startlingly pink ball gown and an unnatural shade of foundation, “My name is Cynthia Jenkins, and I have the honour of being your Leader of Ceremony. On behalf of my organisation, we thank you all deeply for your kind donations and your valued attendance. Without further ado, allow the music and the dancing to commence!”

She waved as she exited the stage. Kirelle’s clapping was a subconscious act.

Her present company stood, making their way to the dance floor to join the crowd. A quick look across the room told her that Aden was doing the same, hand-in-hand with a familiar face. She was fairly sure it was his family friend, Lucretia Agresti. She’d met her once. She’d seemed nice enough.

“May I have this dance?” M snapped her out of her distracted daze with an attempted posh accent and a melodramatic bow. At least they could agree on one thing—how absurd the obsession was that this side of Brooklyn held with old-fashioned dances.

She sighed at his theatrics and begrudgingly allowed him to lead her to join the mass of people standing in two gender segregated lines. She stood in front of M, a little to the left, as they awaited the start of the song that everyone knew was to be first.

It wasn’t long until the orchestra played the upbeat beginning notes of _Le Lancement_ —a peculiar melange of several dancing styles—and the two lines surged ahead to almost merge. Left hands behind their backs and right palms pressed together, they stepped forwards then backwards as if springs were attached to the soles of their shoes.

She scanned the onlookers for threats in lieu of looking at M.

Each line spun sharply so that their left hands met instead of their right, and they repeated the first part. They turned their backs on each other, facing the crowd of onlookers, and took a few small steps back to their starting place. Every second person walked around the person to their left. The other person then copied—like an infinity sign. Everyone in the same line joined hands and did the grapevine a few slow steps to the right, then back the other way. Kirelle felt it was slightly cult-like. They dropped each other’s hands and assumed their original partner positions, prompting her to question the purpose of the dance’s repetitiveness. To her, it was a sign of laziness, almost like the choreographer hadn’t put a great deal of thought into it—completely unaware that it would be a defining piece for a city.

They walked in a small clockwise circle before the music picked up speed and the women were spun under their partner’s arm before arriving in a basic ballroom dancing position.

Kirelle wondered what this dance would look like from a bird’s-eye view. She could imagine the synchronisation would be rather unsettling; a kaleidoscope of sweeping gowns in an array of colours.

They twisted slightly and took a step that crossed over the other leg, then quickly shifted their weight so they could do the same on the other side. The men dipped the women quickly and spun them again once they’d come back up so that they arrived in front of a new partner.

Despite her concerns about security, Kirelle found herself having more fun with each partner rotation. She was so lost in the movement of the music that the feeling of new hands touching her own didn’t bother her as much anymore. All until one. It was familiar. Warm. It couldn’t be M. His hands were often cold and calloused from recent missions. And with the way dancers were rotating, he was now the furthest away from her. When evacuating her thoughts she looked up at the man with soft hands now to match his eyes.

 _Damn it_ , she thought as she saw her own shock mirrored by his expression. It must have been the fourth time they’d switched when she found herself face to face with Aden.

“Kirelle...” He gasped as they spun to switch hands.

They performed the familiar stepping forwards and backwards, but words seemed foreign to her. She was saved when they walked back to their lines, but found her eyes locking onto Aden as soon as she turned back around. They sidestepped, and he was looking at her, too. It was as if they had to spend the rest of the dance staring at each other to make up for the few seconds they hadn’t been able to when their backs were turned.

Suddenly their hands were joined once again and they were walking in a circle. Kirelle found herself captivated by his eyes; the colour of the sky on a clear day. Pale and vast with no end to them.

Her heart rate increased with the music as he spun her under his arm.

She finished with one hand in his and one on his tricep.

His hand arrived on her waist. Heat flooded her cheeks.

His eyes were also the same colour as the walls of her childhood bedroom. Familiar and comforting.

A step. A twist. A step.

His grip tightened. He dipped her downwards. Her breath caught in her throat.

The music stopped.

Her chest heaved, and she tried to ignore the fact that her face had probably turned several embarrassing shades of red. She had an arm hooked securely around his neck as she gazed up at his deer-in-the-headlights expression. Their faces were very close and she wasn’t entirely sure what her emotions were doing.

She was snapped out of her daze when he lifted her back up, and she realised how stupid she had been. This affection towards him was a contagious infection, and the more it spread, the more difficult it would be to return from it. And the more harm it would bring to the both of them. The overwhelming sense of sadness enveloped her when the awareness of their predicament fully returned into her bones, weighing down her entire body as well as her heart.

“I—” She began, but shook her head and forced herself to walk away as quickly as possible.

 _Damn it_ , she thought again, _Of all people, why did it have to be Aden Winslow?_

She straightened her posture and plastered on a smile, nodding to people she made eye contact with as she passed them. So many people, so many false displays of amicability. The ballroom seemed so much larger than she remembered.

After an eternity she reached a set of glass doors and slipped through, hopefully unnoticed. The night breeze welcomed her, cooling her cheeks and loosening a breath from where it had been unconsciously trapped.

Her shoes clicked on her way over to the balcony rail, which she rested her hands on as she ignored the grief her heels were giving her and the pain she felt in her heart.

Music floated outside as the door opened again, then quietened down. She didn’t have to turn around to know who had followed her. He leant against the railing, a bit further away from her than normal conversational distance. Neither of them looked at each other. It was almost like they were pretending that the other person wasn’t there.

“What are you doing here, Kirelle?” Aden asked after a pause, his voice and movements laced with defeat.

She replied stiffly, “Why do you wanna know?”

“Uh, there are _many_ reasons?! Is this is just another mission?” He took her silence as a ‘yes’ and scoffed in a failed attempt to mask his hurt, “Typical.”

“What’s your problem?” She scowled out at the view; the lights of her city that shone as if they thought they could contest the stars’ positions in the sky. Well, technically they were. By providing for the human race, they were poisoning one of the most enchanting sights in the universe.

“If you were just here to complain,” she continued, “Why did you even leave to talk to me?”

“I was just confused! All I knew was that you weren’t coming as my date anymore, but now you show up and you’re arm-in-arm with another guy? That’s a pretty crappy thing to do to someone, Kirelle. I think I deserve an explanation.”

“Aden, he’s just my coworker,” she sighed, “Besides, you have Lucretia Agresti, don’t you? The two of you looked like you were having fun.”

“She’s just a relative of mine,”

“Exactly! And regardless, the rules still apply,” she looked down at her device as the target notification caught her attention again.

 _Remember who he is, Kirelle_ , she reminded herself.

“I— I have to go,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first sneak peek for ‘It’s the Name of the Game’ by Halfy and Cecilia Mayden. This project of ours has been talked about for a while now, so it’s great to finally kick it off! We hope you enjoyed, and would love it if you stay tuned for the second sneak peek. Thanks for reading and starting this journey with us!


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